


Rest Day

by Jenny33Wren



Series: St. Petersburg smut [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Morning Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Smut, not sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 10:15:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8975485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenny33Wren/pseuds/Jenny33Wren
Summary: I saw this pic: http://otakumi.tumblr.com/image/152265205838How could I not write this fic?





	

Victor never complained about waking up sore. In fact, it was his preferred way of being. It turned out Yuuri, once he was comfortable, had a bossy side that made Victor melt. It took just a flick of one dark eyebrow, a lick of Yuuri’s perfect lips, and Victor would be on his knees, ass in the air, face in the mattress, begging before they’d barely gotten started.

  
His whole body stretched and popped as he slipped out of bed. He could hear Yuuri rattling around in the kitchen. Victor groaned as he came to his feet and padded to the bathroom. All of him ached, and he truly meant all of of him. His last clear memory of the night before was the sensation of Yuuri’s cock in his ass and Yuuri’s nails on his back which, Victor checked out his reflection in the mirror, was actually a clearer memory than he thought. Angry red lines raked over one hip, and there was a welt with distinct tooth marks on one shoulder. Victor twisted in the glowing vanity light to see his back; the scratch marks continued there.

  
“Yuuri-kun,” he growled, as he stalked out of the bathroom.

  
“Good morning!” Yuuri said. He stood by the kitchen sink in his usual worn sweats and t-shirt. The pants hung low on his hips and his hair stuck out at odder than usual angles. He didn’t bother to turn as Victor walked in, leaving Victor the opportunity to admire his gorgeous ass and the rippling muscles of his back under the tight t-shirt. Not that he wouldn’t have ogled if Yuuri were facing him. In fact, it was his third favourite thing to do, since it made Yuuri blush and squirm. It seemed impossible that the flustered young man could be the same one who left the marks on Victor’s body the night before.

  
“Good morning.” Victor pressed up against Yuuri’s back, one hand gripping Yuuri’s hip with firm fingers. He bit playfully at the tendons that stretched along Yuuri’s neck as the younger man arched against him, laughing.

  
“Stop!” he said, but he didn’t put much conviction in it. Victor smiled and slid his hands around, under Yuuri’s t-shirt to hold him tight against him.

  
“You have a lot to answer for,” he said. The tips of Yuuri’s ears turned pink.

  
“What?”

  
“Look at me!” Victor turned Yuuri to face him. “I’m going to have to wear long sleeves all day!”

  
Yuuri blushed a little more, and scratched at the back of his scalp. 

“We can say the cat did it?” he offered. Victor crowded up against him more firmly

“The cat?” he asked. He kissed Yuuri’s neck, then sucked harder. If he was going to be in scarves and turtlenecks for a week, then so would Yuuri.

“Well...yes...the cat would…” Yuuri’s words got strangled as Victor’s teeth grazed over his ear.

“We don’t have a cat,” Victor said. Yuuri squirmed against him, making their bodies rub against each other in pleasant ways. Victor grabbed Yuuri’s hips and turned him again to face the sink.

“What are you doing today?” he asked. His hands roamed over Yuuri’s body. It was a heady thing, to have him so close. Since moving to St. Petersburg and back to Victor’s apartment, they’d been together nearly continuously. Victor trained with Yakov, and Yuuri trained with Victor. In the gym, on the ice, at home. Together. To be so close, and to be even closer in the private space of the apartment sometimes made Victor feel as drunk as Yuuri had been on that perfect night after their first Grand Prix.

“Today?” Yuuri’s voice cracked as Victor’s hands came down to stroke him through the front of his sweats. Victor still couldn’t believe he could be this open, this assertive, but what happened in their St. Petersburg apartment, stayed in their St. Petersburg apartment. Hasetsu had been a paradise, with its isolation from media and the machine of the skating federations, but they had actually had little privacy. The inn and hot spring had always been busy, with people (including Yuuri’s parents) coming and going. Even if Yuuri had been comfortable with Victor’s touch as anything more than a friend at the time, there would have been very little opportunity to take advantage of any time alone. Here though…

“Yes, Yuuri.” Victor trailed his fingers over the outline of Yuuri’s growing erection. “What are you doing today?”

Yuuri’s hands gripped the edge of the counter, and he angled his hips to press more firmly back against Victor.

“Today,” he said, “my coach told me was weight training. I was going to go to the gym and then…” his words cut off as Victor’s hand dipped inside the front of his sweats.

“That is not what your coach told you,” he said, nuzzling at the space between Yuuri’s ear and jaw.

“It’s…” Yuuri swallowed. His cheeks flamed. “It’s not?”

“No.” Victor gripped Yuuri and gave him a gentle squeeze. Yuuri made a small noise in the back of his throat. It excited Victor to no end that he was the only one who ever got to hear these sounds. The little things in his and Yuuri’s private space were like treasures he guarded closely.

“Then what-”

“You don’t need more weight training. You’re strong enough. I’ve got the bruises to prove it.” He took ahold of one of Yuuri’s hands and pulled it back until Yuuri’s fingers pressed against Victor’s ass, over the bruises Yuuri had left there three nights ago. “Today is a rest day.”

“A rest day. But Victor-” Yuuri’s breath caught in his throat as Victor’s hand worked on him. His hips rocked reflexively, and Victor ground against him.

“Rest,” Victor said again. “You have to relax Yuri.” He slipped his free hand over the small of Yuuri’s back and then slid it lower, under the elastic of Yuuri’s sweats. Yuuri groaned as Victor’s hand followed the line between his cheeks and brushed against the pucker of his ass. Yuuri’s voice turned high and breathy at the sensation, just like it always did.

“Victor!”

“Yes, Yuuri-Kun?” He used his index finger to press against the tight ring of muscle gently. His other hand never stopped moving slowly up and down along Yuuri’s shaft. Yuuri shivered against him. Victor had to close his eyes to keep his pace. He kept his hands soft and waited to see what Yuuri wanted.

He ached from the previous night, the remembered press of Yuuri’s body into his making him tremble even now. There was going to be a lecture from Yakov today, even if the old coach didn’t know the reasons for Victor’s fatigue. To fuck Yuuri now would just compound the problem, but Victor was helpless to deny Yuuri anything he asked.

“Yes,” Yuuri sighed, as Victor continued to tease. He placed a kiss at the base of Yuuri’s spine. Yuuri’s cock pulsed in his hand.

“More of that?” Victor asked. He settled to his knees behind Yuuri, and pulled the soft sweats down Yuuri’s legs. He ran his blunt nails over the back of Yuuri’s thighs as Yuuri stepped out of his pants, leaving himself bare from the waist down. Victor ran his hands back up to squeeze the globes of Yuuri’s ass, firm in his palms. The combination of Yuuri’s hard body and the soft sounds he made whenever Victor touched him were the worst kind of addiction.

Victor spread Yuuri’s cheeks apart and watched for a second as the muscles winked and flexed in the cool air of the kitchen. Victor leaned in and breathed softly against him, and was rewarded with another squeeze of the little pink ring.

“Victor,” Yuuri said. Victor dragged the pad of his finger over Yuuri’s hole.

“Yes?” Another soft stroke. The lube was in the bedroom. He had to be gentle.

“Your mouth.” Yuuri said. “I want your mouth on me.”

That was as clear and explicit a plea as it got with Yuuri. The words made Victor’s cock lengthen in his underwear. The tile on the kitchen floor was cold under Victor’s knees, but he barely felt it as he spread Yuuri’s cheeks again and leaned forward to swipe his tongue where his fingers had been.

Yuuri cried out, and his hand came back to press against Victor’s head, trying to show him what he needed. Victor paused, and grabbed hold of Yuuri’s wrist. He dragged it back to the kitchen counter, and held Yuuri’s hands there.

“You’ve done enough damage with those. You will keep your hands to yourself this morning. Understand?” He punctuated the question with a kiss just above where his tongue had been, making Yuuri’s hands flex underneath his.

“Yes,” Yuuri said.

“Good.” Victor grinned. He placed a few more kisses, and then bit gently on the firm muscle of Yuuri’s glutes. It would leave a mark, and Victor liked that. A lot.

“Spread your legs for me,” he said, and Yuuri was only too eager to comply. Victor used his hands to hold Yuuri open, then mouthed hot kisses against him. When his tongue swiped against Yuuri’s hole for the first time, Yuuri made a high mewling noise that went straight to Victor’s balls.

“Maybe you’re a cat after all,” he said. He licked again and was rewarded with another high whine.

Victor lost himself and the taste and heat of Yuuri. Sex of any kind between them was addictive, but this soft attention was something Victor particularly enjoyed. Maybe because it has been hard won. When their relationship had grown into something that included sex, Yuuri had been the most hesitant to try rimming. Victor knew it had to do with Japanese attitudes towards cleanliness, and he would never have pushed Yuuri into something he truly wasn’t comfortable with. But one night in the hot spring, after the guests had gone home and Yuuri’s family had gone to bed, Victor had showed Yuuri exactly what he could do with his mouth, amid the tendrils of curly steam in the bath.

“I love your taste,” Victor breathed against Yuuri. He used one hand to pull Yuuri open slightly, and then let his tongue spear inside Yuuri’s ass. His cock was leaking, straining against the elastic of his boxer briefs.

“Victor!” Yuuri pressed himself against Victor’s mouth, and Victor cursed the lack of foresight that meant they had no lube. Aching muscles aside, he really would fuck him now.

Victor snaked one hand between Yuuri’s thighs, pressing and stroking against his perineum. The sensation just made Yuuri press back against him even harder.

“More,” he gasped. He shifted, and gripped his cock and started to stroke. Victor sat back and snatched Yuuri’s wrist again.

“Hands on the counter,” he said. Yuuri whined, but complied when Victor tongued at him again. His head dropped when Victor gripped Yuuri’s cock and started to stroke gently.

“Yes. More.” Yuuri’s hips rocked, trying to choose a rhythm that worked for him. Victor pressed the flat of his tongue against him, pulsing, then pressed inside. Yuuri lifted up on his toes, and Victor wrapped his free arm around his hips and pulled him back down, holding him hard against his mouth.

“Do you want to come, Yuuri-kun?” he asked. He let his hand relax a little, and Yuuri thrust hard against him, trying to get the friction he needed.

“Please Victor,” he pressed back, arching his spine. “Please. I want to come.”

Victor could deny him nothing. He hadn’t been able to since the moment Yuuri had looked up at him with champagne soaked eyes and begged Victor to be his coach. To hold back now was impossible. Victor worked him up, his grip growing firmer, pulling sounds from Yuuri that made his own body tremble. His tongue licked and swirled inside of him. Yuuri’s voice went hoarse as he rocked back and forth between the twin assault of Victor’s mouth and fist.

“Yes, please, Victor, yes.” It was a prayer and the sweetest love letter Victor could imagine. His arm, still wrapped around Yuuri to hold him in place, pressed into the hard muscle of Yuuri’s abs as his tongue shot forward, pressing as far inside as he could go. Yuuri cried out, and Victor felt the warm spurt of cum on his fist. He kept working, feeling his own body tighten as Yuuri bucked under him. He buried his face between Yuuri’s cheeks, driving the last of the orgasm out of him, and the last thrust of his tongue sent his own cock spurting against his stomach, making Victor shudder and lose his grip on Yuuri’s body.

He sagged back on his heels, and Yuuri more or less followed him, collapsing to his knees, his breathing ragged. Victor used Yuuri’s discarded sweats to clean up the worst of his own mess before he gathered Yuuri against him and repeated the process. Boneless, Yuuri flopped against him like a rag doll.

“You’re so beautiful,” Victor said, kissing the top of his head. Yuuri made a soft noise and petted Victor’s chest like a kitten. Victor shifted the until he could lean back and against the cabinet, and hold Yurri close.

  
“You’re going to be late for practice,” Yurri said. Victor squeezed him gently.

  
“Shhh, Yuuri-kun,” he said, kissing him again. Yakov and his lectures could wait. “It’s a day of rest.”


End file.
